


A Family Portrait

by kat_hale



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, He gets cuddles, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Post Worlds, Post-Episode 12, Victuuri are totally Yura's parents, Yura needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 05:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10757874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat_hale/pseuds/kat_hale
Summary: The Katsuki-Nikiforov-Plisetsky family naps.ORNikolai Plisetsky is in the hospital and Yuuri and Viktor take care of their son.





	A Family Portrait

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ironinkpen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ironinkpen/gifts).



> For Izzy, because she requested a 50K fic about Viktor and Yuuri parenting Yura and I haven't had a chance to sit and write it yet, so here's a little taste my dear!
> 
> A massive, massive thank you once again to my wonderful, beautiful beta/editor/writing wife [Grassepi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Grassepi/pseuds/Grassepi). I wouldn't have dared to publish anything before meeting you and now look, a fourth one!
> 
> To everyone who has read my other stories and has given kudos or commented, thank you so much from the bottom of my heart and soul. These make my day brighter and make me love writing for this fandom.
> 
> I choose to put the Russian in the Roman alphabet rather than Cyrillic for easier readability for non-Russian readers (including myself, but damn does this show make me want to learn).

_Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale._

Warmth. Yuri is warm. He is _safe_.

Without opening his eyes he knows it is late afternoon. The sun entering the room is gentle and sweet, the kind that occurs an hour from sunset. Without thinking, he burrows down further into his pillow, frowning slightly when he’s met with resistance. _Strange, pillows aren’t normally this unforgiving._

Suddenly fingers are moving through his hair and Yuri realizes that he isn’t in his bed. More than that, he isn’t alone in _this_ bed.

Yuri’s eyes fly open and he sits upright, dislodging the hand in his hair as well as the arm that had been across his waist that he hadn’t noticed.

_Oh god oh god oh god oh god._

He is in Viktor and Yuuri’s bed. He was being _cuddled_ by Vitya and Katsudon! What. The. HELL?!

“Yura?” Viktor murmurs, sleepy aquamarine eyes meeting Yura’s terrified green gaze. A noise of discontent behind Yuri indicates that his sharp movement has also jolted Yuuri awake. The sleepiness in Viktor’s eyes dissipates quickly.

“Yura, it’s okay,” he says calmly, slowly sitting up too. He recognizes this from when Yura was younger and had bad nightmares. He would be disoriented upon waking, still caught in the liminal space between dreams and reality. Viktor would like nothing more than to pull Yura in his arms, cradle the teen he has come to view as his child in all but blood and name. He can’t, however, forget the blood-curdling scream Yura let out when he’d tried to hug him years ago.

“But—how—why—?” Yuri tries to shove words out of his mouth, but he can’t form sentences, the fear of not remembering how he wound up in his current situation making him panic.

“Yuratchka, breathe.”

Yuri does, trusting Viktor like he used to. Before Viktor ran off to Japan to find the man who had stolen the air from his lungs during the Sochi Grand Prix Final banquet. Before Yuri had been forced to deal with Mila and Georgi and the others on his own. Before Yuri had lost the man he’d considered his…friend, and in the quietest moments of the darkest St. Petersburg nights, the older brother he wished he’d had.

“Good, _kotya_ , good, keep breathing,” Viktor murmurs and Yuri doesn’t realize Viktor’s speaking Russian.

Until, “Vitya, what’s wrong?”

The English jolts Yuri. Despite being fluent, it is his third language and it sounds ever so foreign to his frantic mind.

Yuuri is sitting up on his other side, very carefully not touching Yuri because Viktor isn’t touching him either. He takes in Yura’s rapid breathing and recognizes the symptoms. He remembers about a month ago when Yura had come to practice looking like he’d barely slept—and not in a up-way-too-late-skyping-with-Otabek kind of way or a worried-for-his-grandfather kind of way. After flubbing one too many jumps, Yakov had shouted at Yura to take the rest of the day off. Yuuri had found him hyperventilating in the locker room. It was like looking back at a younger version of himself: panic-ridden, convinced of his own imminent failure, unable to believe his own talent. Logic doesn't matter in the face of a bad day on the ice. Yuuri knows that better than anyone. It took twenty minutes to even calm Yura down and convince him that the upcoming season wasn't going to be the end of his legacy. Just because of one bad day. Vitya had burst in on them to find Yura passed out in Yuuri's arms, and a mixture of relief and sorrow had crossed his fiancé’s exquisite features. They told Yakov they were taking an extended lunch to ferry Yura back home—their home. When Vitya had tucked Yura in the guest bed, he had looked ready to rain fury down upon someone and pick Yura right back up to cradle him from the world at the same time. Yuuri had spoken with his fiancé after they’d shut the door, Vitya had murmured that the day before had been the day Yura’s mother had walked out all those years ago. Hadn’t believed in her son’s talent because eight-year-old Yuri had hit a growth spurt and was struggling to adjust to his body’s new height at the time. Yuuri understood Vitya’s rage and Yura’s panic then. He wonders what has caused Yura to panic this time.

“Yura woke up and seems confused,” Viktor replies quietly in English before switching back to Russian. “Yuratchka, do you remember how you got here?” Yura had sometimes stayed the night with him, as his apartment had been closer to the rink, and one bad night, Yura had dreamed of his father. Eventually Nikolai had quietly told him that Yura’s father would wait until Yura was asleep and then move him to a different location so Yura would never know where he’d wake up when he was little. Yura’s father had been a soldier and while Viktor knew it was the war that had left a mark on the man’s psyche, he would never be able to forgive Andrei Plisetsky for what he’d done to toddler Yura. Viktor had quickly learned that the best way to help Yura was to have him walk through his memories.

Yuri closes his eyes and tries to remember.

He remembers being at the hospital with his dedushka, who still hadn’t woken up. He remembers sitting in the room for hours because he didn’t have practice that day. The only sounds were Dedushka’s breathing and the machines quiet hums.

He remembers Vitya showing up sometime around noon and asking Yuri to come home with him. Vitya and Katsudon wanted to feed him and have him do some light yoga to help with sitting for so long. He remembers walking into their apartment—and it is theirs, Katsudon has been living with Vitya since January and it’s July now—and the smell of katsudon pirozhki bringing tears to his eyes. He misses Dedushka’s cooking _so much_.

He misses _Dedushka_.

He remembers not being able to stop the tears, too exhausted emotionally to care that Vitya and Katsudon are seeing him cry. They’ve already witnessed him break down when he’d first finally processed everything that was happening to Dedushka. And during all the different scares over the past month and a half too. Thank the ice gods they were still in the beginnings of the new season, when training was just starting up again.

Katsudon had tugged him into his arms and he’d clung to the Japanese skater like he was driftwood and Yuri was in danger of drowning. He’s certain he’s left scratches on Katsudon’s back from how tightly he dug his fingers into the skater’s muscles.

Vitya had wrapped his arms around them both while Yuri cried his heart out. He hadn’t thought he had any tears left, but apparently he was wrong.

He remembers that Vitya had led them into the bedroom when Yuri had finally stopped crying and sagged against Katsudon, unable to support his own weight.

Katsudon had helped him out of his jeans and sweater while Vitya had simply tugged off his own shirt and lay down on the bed. His arms had been open and Yuri had crawled into them. Yuri had cuddled into Vitya’s side and Katsudon had then cuddled him from behind.

He remembers falling asleep in seconds, the warmth and comfort of Vitya and Katsudon a balm to Yuri’s exhausted soul.

Yuri opens his eyes and meets Viktor’s gaze. He nods slowly.

“Good _kotya_ , that’s good. Would you like to sleep some more?” Viktor offers with a sincere smile. It is different from the sincere smiles he offers to his fans. This one is reserved for those Viktor holds in high regards, those who Viktor loves.

Yuri remembers how kind Vitya was to him during the years before his senior debut. How Vitya had fought Yakov to allow Yuri to have his cat Potya with him in the dorms because Yuri was homesick far more than he was willing to admit. How he’d taken Yuri out to show him the best places to get groceries and the quietest areas of the city, where neither of them would be mobbed by fans. How he’d taken Yuri to see various productions of Eugene Onegin over the years after he’d caught Yuri reading a well-worn copy during lunch break one day, even though Vitya preferred French authors.

Yuri then remembers how cruel he’s been to Vitya—and Katsudon too—over the past year. How he had refused to take Vitya’s critiques to improve his skating seriously, until his senior debut had been on the line. How he had taunted Vitya in Barcelona prior to the Short Program, both about his love for Katsudon and for his supposed arrogance that he somehow hadn’t had an impact on everyone else in the skating world’s life, especially Yuri’s. How he had sneered at the couple once Katsudon had moved to Russia whenever they were supportive of each other. Whenever they demonstrated their love for one another. How enraged he had been when the couple showed any support to him. How he had screamed at Vitya when Dedushka’s situation finally hit him emotionally. Vitya had tried to comfort him, tell him he was certain everything would work out. Yuri had shouted that Vitya didn’t know what it was like to lose someone he loved.

He had been a monster.

Yuri throws himself at Viktor now, tears flooding down his cheeks again. “I’m sorry,” he sobs over and over. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Viktor wraps his arms tightly around Yuri. “Yura, what are you sorry for? You’ve done nothing wrong _kotya_.” Yuuri moves closer, wraps his arms over Viktor’s and gently nuzzles Yuri.

Yura shrugs, unable to voice all of the apologies for his bad attitude and cruelty towards Viktor and Yuuri over the past year. All the stress of his grandfather’s hospitalization has rendered Yuri a hot mess of emotions that he cannot handle. He wishes he had the words to express his gratitude towards these amazing men who have taken care of him while he’s been falling apart. How much they mean to him.

“I…I…” He’s unable to get out more, but over the past few months, Yuuri has become rather adept at understanding Yuri’s unspoken words, as well passable in comprehending Russian.

“Yura, it’s okay,” he murmurs softly in English. “Just try to breathe, hmm? It’s okay Yura, you’re not alone.”

Yuri blindly unwraps one of his arms from around Viktor and twists it so it’s wrapped around Yuuri’s waist, pulling him closer. He will never understand how Yuuri seems to know just how _safe_ , how _loved_ he feels with these two men, but by the ice gods, he’s not questioning it.

Eventually the tears fade again and Viktor runs his fingers through Yuri’s hair, a gesture that calms the last of Yuri’s anxiety and grief away for now, humming an old Russian lullaby. Yuri’s breath steadies. Yuuri gets up and goes to fetch a wet facecloth as well as tissues so Yuri can deal with the mucus and tears.

Viktor keeps his arms wrapped around Yuri though, his hair mingling with Yuri’s own. What Yuri doesn’t see is the picture he and Viktor make when Yuuri returns from the bathroom: in another life, where Vitya is a little older or Yura a little younger, he would honestly believe them to be father and son. His heart aches for Yura. Vitya had told him fully about Yura’s family situation when Nikolai had first been hospitalized and if Yuuri had his way, he’d go back in time to shout at Yura’s parents.

“Shall we eat now?” Yuuri offers with a small smile and Yuri nods as he finishes wiping the tear tracks off his cheeks.

The three skaters go out into the kitchen and begin the familiar routine of setting up food for dinner. Yuri fights down the heat of his cheeks each time Katsudon sends him a gentle glance as he sets the table, cursing his pale-because-when-the-hell-does-he-have-time-to-go-out skin. As they take their seats, Vitya ruffles his hair and he cringes, because he wants to forget what just happened and the fact that the gross lovebirds have witnessed him breaking down. Again. (It takes everything in him not to lean into Vitya’s hand and maybe Beka is right and he really is a cat like Potya. He decides to go with that.)

They eat the katsudon pirozhkis with salad, talking about inconsequential things. Yuri isn’t stupid, he knows that Katsudon and Vitya are playing along, allowing him to pretend that nothing is wrong (he _maybe_ loves them for that). Slowly the room seems brighter.

For dessert, Viktor surprises them with a delicious chocolate torte he’d picked up from the nearby bakery the day prior because he thought they deserved a treat.

Yuri snaps a photo of it and sends it to Beka. Beka sends a text reply a few moments later. “Beka says that this is a good idea because this is how they combat depression in _Harry Potter_.”

“Oh, with the dementors? Yeah, that’s right, Lupin gives Harry chocolate,” Yuuri says with a fond smile. Viktor looks at both of them in confusion.

“Pardon?”

Yuri and Yuuri exchange a look of shock. “Vitya, please tell me you read _Harry Potter_.” When Viktor shakes his head, Yuri huffs.

“I’ll grab my copies tomorrow from the dorm on the way here from practice,” Yuri grumbles, knowing it’ll be easier to get Viktor to read the books if he doesn’t have to also deal with translating from Japanese. Yuuri gives him a smile and he finds he has to return it.

Viktor sighs in agreement before cutting the cake, which they all eat with great relish. The torte is rich and smooth and Yuri fights not to inhale it.

After the dishes are washed and put away, the three skaters retire to the living room, where Viktor lets Yuri pick the movie. He decides that he’s had enough of tears and throws in the Disney _Beauty and the Beast_. When he turns around, Yuuri is sitting in the corner of the sofa, one leg extended along the cushions and the other hanging over the edge. Viktor is sitting about a foot away. Yuri bites his lip before going and cuddling up against Yuuri. Viktor then flops down to cuddle against Yuri before pressing play.

Yuri wonders if all families cuddle as much as theirs, then internally shakes his head. He would be stupid to get his heart broken—again since Viktor had cracked it when he’d gone to Japan—by voicing that silly fantasy. It’s just a joke Viktor makes to provoke a reaction out of him, has been saying it ever since Mila had joked that Viktor and Yuri looked like father and son from a distance. One day after Russian and Japanese Nationals, both Viktor and Yuri had been wearing near identical outfits, black pants and the red and white Russian team sweaters. They’d been standing with their backs to Mila, talking with Yuuri, when Mila had snapped a photo and tagged it on Instagram with #likefatherlikeson #matchingoutfits #so cute #lovethefamilyvibe. Viktor never let the joke go, but Yuri was certain he never meant it seriously, so Yuri buried his desire. No sense in getting his hopes up.

* * *

Yuri must have fallen asleep during the movie because he drifts back to semi-consciousness when he hears Viktor and Yuuri whispering.

“…Vitya, you need to move off of him first before you try to pick up _our son_.” Katsudon’s voice is amused as he says the last two words.

Cocooned as he is now, warm and safe and… _loved_ once again, Yuri can privately admit that he wouldn’t mind being their son. Not if it means that he isn’t alone in the face of the terrifying future where Dedushka might… might…

“Yuuri, we are his parents,” Vitya says and Yuri almost gives the game away when he registers the seriousness of Vitya’s voice. “We’re the ones taking care of him while his only guardian is ill. Don’t tell me that you aren’t concerned about how much weight he’s managed to drop over the past few weeks.”

“I am, Vitya,” Katsudon replies and there is a sadness in his voice that should not be there. Katsudon’s sad voice is almost as bad as his disappointed voice and Yuri would possibly sell his soul if it meant he never heard either again. “But Yura’s at least eating whenever he’s given food. Maybe tomorrow we can take him to that restaurant you took me to a few weeks ago? The one that has the really filling healthy foods?”

“A family meal sounds good, _lyubov moya_ ,” Vitya says and there is silence for a moment. Then the sound of the parting of lips reaches his ear and he’s not at all surprised that the two lovers were kissing over him. (If he really strains, he thinks he can remember a time when his own blood parents did the same one night as they were tucking him in bed.)

 _Family_. Vitya said it like it was a sure thing. Katsudon agreed. Is he dreaming still? Or is he finally catching a break after this ridiculous month and a half? Does he finally have people in his life who want to take care of him, be the parents he hasn’t had in so long?

Suddenly there are arms wrapping around his back and underneath his legs and then he is lifted up and cradled into Vitya’s chest, who carefully carries him to the guest bedroom. As he is laid down a second pair of hands pulls the duvet over him. Potya comes to curl up around his head.

He hears the footsteps make their way to the threshold and he sleepily calls out, “Family dinner sounds good.”

A pause in the footsteps, then, “Good night _solnishko_ ,” murmurs Vitya.

“Good night, Yuratchka,” Yuuri adds, in rather good Russian as Vitya closes the door.

Yuri falls asleep with a smile on his face, for once not dreading what might occur the next day because he has a _family_.

**Author's Note:**

> Nikolai lives! I wouldn't do that to my baby son. I might even write a sequel to this (or just write Izzy her 50K fic, y'know).
> 
> Russian translations:  
>  _kotya_ = kitten  
>  _Dedushka_ = Grandpa  
>  _solnishko_ = sunshine/darling (very sweet term of endearment)
> 
> And yes, I am making a language pun of sorts by having Viktor call Yura _solnishko_ (sunshine-sun-son) because I am a geek.
> 
> Hope the angst wasn't too bad and the fluff balanced it out (Grace and I always comment that we never give Yura a happy backstory, though to be fair, the first season doesn't exactly imply a happy one, nor does Yura's defensive-punk attitude).


End file.
